


sentimental

by cuubism



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Tenderness, discussions of parenthood, literally this is just softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: “You know,” Alec says thoughtfully, much quieter now, “you really are going to be a great dad.”
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 44
Kudos: 207
Collections: Fluff vs. Angst Battle 2020





	sentimental

Magnus is tired. He’s been running himself ragged all week, bouncing across the world to solve problems he’s certain the local High Warlocks and Institutes should have been able to handle on their own. He’s had to play negotiator to so many inane arguments that he’s about to ban everyone on earth from ever talking to him again.

Magnus bemoans the incompetence of others every day, but especially when it keeps him from his husband for an entire _week._

Now he’s sitting between the High Warlock of Naples and the High Warlock of Rome, and it’s three a.m. New York time, and he’s been awake for twenty-two hours, and he’s seriously about to have an aneurysm if they don’t stop screaming at each other.

“It was _our_ issue to deal with! Don’t interfere where you have no place!” yells Giorgio, High Warlock of Rome.

Chesney, from Naples, leans across the table to get in his space. “Oh really? Then why were the toxins in _my river?”_

“It’s a _river!_ You can’t _own a river!”_

“You pretentious asshole—”

“ENOUGH!” Magnus stands up, sending a blast of harmless magic across the room for good measure. “Shut up, both of you.”

Giorgio and Chesney continue glaring at each other, breathing heavily, and Magnus presses fingertips to his pounding temples as he suddenly remembers that these two were once together. Ex-lovers should never be put in charge of adjacent territories. It never ends well.

If he can remember to do it after sleeping for the next four days straight, Magnus will take it up with the Council.

Magnus opens his eyes and levels them with his best glare. “Giorgio, you have to let nearby jurisdictions know when you have a problem that affects them. Chesney, you didn’t have to handle it in such a vindictive way.”

Chesney’s mouth pops open in affront. “I merely—”

“—let your emotions affect your judgement, I’m well aware,” Magnus interrupts. “Figure yourself out or find another city to run. I hear Fairbanks is looking for a High Warlock. You’ll have to buy a few coats, though. Cold up there.” He rubs up and down his arms in false sympathy. “Now, are we finished here?”

He stares them down, daring them to snark at him, or each other, again. When no sass is forthcoming, he smiles icily.

“Excellent. Because I have a bed calling my name and you do _not_ want to get between me and it.”

They glance at each other and wisely keep their mouths shut.

Logically, Magnus knows he shouldn’t portal halfway across the world on twenty-two hours of sleep. Rome isn’t _terribly_ far from New York, but it’s no jaunt to the corner store, either.

But damn it, he wants to sleep in his own bed, not another vaguely antiseptic hotel. And he wants his husband. He’s tired of falling asleep hugging pillows like some kind of desperate lovelorn fool.

Besides, he’s reasonably sure he will, in fact, land in the loft, and not, like, Antarctica or somewhere.

_Aha,_ Magnus thinks as his portal deposits him in his living room, _victorious!_

Then his legs give out and he collapses to the floor with a _thump_.

He groans as his senses slowly come back, spots dancing in front of his vision, the room spinning. For a moment, Magnus just lays there, face pressed to the cool wood of the floor. This is nice, isn’t it? The floor is nice. At least he isn’t vertical.

He slowly pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. _“Fucking hell.”_

Then he freezes, because—he’s making an awful lot of noise. And it’s the middle of the night, when the loft is at its quietest. And his over-protective, light sleeper of a husband hasn’t come stumbling out of the bedroom to rescue him from his misery or threaten him with a seraph blade, depending on whether he recognizes the noise as Magnus.

Which means he isn’t here.

Magnus is actually going to cry. He’s so tired, and he just wants—

He shakes himself. No, he’s fine. He’s going to go to bed and be fine. It’s just the lack of sleep making him all weepy and pathetic.

He shoves himself to his feet, swaying a little before his head clears. His temples are still pounding, and he feels a little sore and shaky—probably from not eating all day—which he knows Alec will chide him over but he’s not here, is he?

The empty bed holds no appeal, so Magnus just sort of—collapses face-first onto the couch, smushing his face into one of the pillows and feeling very sorry for himself. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because he’s barely managed to kick off his shoes before he’s out.

He wakes to the slow shifting of his body, and it’s only years of recognition that stops him from throwing the person leaning over him across the room. “Mmph,” he mutters instead, eyes still closed, “why are you moving me? I’m comfy.”

Alec chuckles, and his hands still where he’s trying to ease them under Magnus’s body so he can lift him up. “You’re gonna get a crick in your neck,” he says quietly, all fondness. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”

“‘s not comfy without you,” Magnus slurs, still half-asleep, then realizes what he’s just said. He blinks, finally waking up fully. “Wait. _You._ You’re here.”

“Yeah.” Alec chuckles again, though it sounds a little wary now. “Did you hit your head?”

_Only when I fell into your arms,_ Magnus thinks deliriously, but Alec is likely to take this as a _yes_ and insist on examining him for injuries so he doesn’t voice it. Instead he grabs the collar of Alec’s shirt and pulls him down onto the couch.

Alec falls on top of him with a _huff_ , and his body is heavy and warm and his breath tickles Magnus’s neck and it’s excellent. He shifts to the side a little so he can pin Magnus between himself and the back of the couch instead of outright crushing him, and that’s even better.

Magnus buries his face in Alec’s chest, and Alec’s arms automatically come up to wrap around him. “Aw, did you miss your cuddles?”

It’s only lightly teasing, so Magnus just prods at his side in response. “Missed _you._ Everyone’s so _annoying_. Why are they so annoying?”

“You think _I_ know the answer to that?”

Magnus just groans.

“I missed you, too,” Alec says softly.

Magnus slowly unburies his arms and lifts them to clutch at Alec’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. Alec hums against his mouth, tangling his hands in Magnus’s hair, and Magnus leans into the touch.

Alec kisses him again and then says, “Do you want to go to bed now?”

Magnus, who was fully planning to just sleep right here, blinks tiredly at him. “We’re in bed.”

Alec smiles bemusedly at him. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?” Though he sounds more amused than truly concerned.

“I think the stupidity I’ve been dealing with is contagious,” Magnus tells him.

_“Or_ you’re not sleeping enough.”

Magnus sighs, but he’s too tired to make up another excuse. “Alas. You’ve caught me! Your workaholic husband is at it again. Go ahead and rightly admonish me for it.”

“I don’t want to admonish you, I just want to take you to bed.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow, and Alec’s brow pinches as he clearly regrets his word choice. But he forges on—

“You need a real night’s sleep, Magnus. Come on.”

The absolute last thing Magnus wants to do is walk the twenty steps to the bedroom.

Alec slides off the couch and stands up, and the loss of his warmth somehow manages to surpass the argument in Rome to become the worst thing Magnus has experienced this week. He latches onto Alec’s shirt and whines in his most plaintive voice, _“Hey._ Come _back._ ”

Alec's expression flickers and Magnus thinks for a moment that he might have won, but then he watches as Alec’s “the decision is made” face slams down over whatever hesitation might have been there. “Nope. We’re going to bed.”

And he picks Magnus up from the couch and starts walking.

Magnus protests half-heartedly but he knows he’s not fooling Alec one bit as to how much he’s enjoying being cradled in his arms. In fact, not having to stumble along on his shaky legs is a great mercy, and Alec’s chest is a delightful wall of warmth against him. He might fall asleep right here.

Unfortunately, the change in elevation sends his headache pounding again. As Alec sets him down on the bed, Magnus presses his fingertips to his temples, curling in on himself.

That sends Alec leaning over him in concern, hands hovering. “Magnus? Hey, talk to me.” He keeps his voice mercifully low.

“It’s just—” Magnus squeezes his eyes shut as a particularly intense pain bursts behind his eyelids— “headache. I’ll be fine.”

Alec leans in to kiss his forehead. “You’ve been working too much.”

“As you tell me every day,” Magnus murmurs. Alec starts to pull away again, but Magnus grabs onto his shirt and pulls him down onto the bed.

Alec laughs as he rearranges his long limbs to lie beside Magnus instead of on top of him. Magnus tucks his face into Alec’s belly and sighs.

“Mmm, you feel good.”

“Uh-huh. I think that’s just the pleasure of being in your own bed.”

“Nope,” Magnus says, “that’s just the pleasure of being with my own husband.”

“As opposed to somebody else’s husband?”

Magnus swats blindly at his arm. “Don’t tease when my brain’s only working at ten percent capacity.”

“There are other times?”

_“Alexanderrr,”_ Magnus groans, drawing his name out into four distinct syllables. “I hate you.”

“Kidding, I’m kidding.” He’s laughing, the bastard. “You already know you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. And the cleverest warlock of this century.” He pets Magnus’s hair soothingly.

Magnus hums. “Mmm. Say more about that.”

“You’re kind, you’re inventive, you’re brilliant,” Alec says. “Even including that time you tried to teach Chairman how to cook so you could ‘expand his palate.’”

“Would _you_ enjoy eating the same dry food every day?”

“Okay, fine, but I don’t understand why that necessitates him learning how to make ‘authentic carbonara.’”

“It’s called culture, dear.”

Alec sighs. “Next thing I know you’ll be taking him on a cat vacation to Italy.”

“He’s already been to Italy,” Magnus informs him. “This is precisely why he needs to learn to make his _own_ carbonara, the _right_ way.”

“Are you going to teach him how to pick a good wine, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a cat.”

Alec’s playing with his hair again. Magnus leans into the touch.

“You know,” Alec says thoughtfully, much quieter now, “you really are going to be a great dad.”

Magnus freezes, but the statement doesn’t fill him with the same strange combination of hope and panic it once did. Instead he just feels sort of… settled. Nervous, but… excited, maybe.

He's never really dared to let himself _think_ , never mind hope. All of the Downworlders he mentors are his children, in a way, but it's different, having your _own_ baby to raise and protect.

It's different, having a baby with _Alec._

But all that comes out of his mouth, sort of wavering, is, “Because I’m teaching my cat Italian cuisine?”

“Because you care. You care so much, Magnus.”

Magnus swallows. He’s been told that before, but rarely in the sense that it’s a positive thing. _‘If you didn’t care so much, you wouldn’t be hurt.’ ‘You always get in too deep, Magnus.’ ‘I can’t believe you actually_ care _.’_

But he knows that’s something Alec understands.

Alec tugs at his hair absently. “Kids need someone who cares as much as you do,” he says quietly.

Magnus is much too tired for a conversation this serious, but he can’t bear to interrupt it. It feels too precious and unbelievable, to be discussing children with his husband. His _husband_.

Alec shakes himself. “Sorry, I’m the one who wanted you to go to sleep and now I’m rambling on.”

_Don’t stop_ , Magnus wants to say, but his thoughts are starting to melt into each other so if he gives in to that impulse he’ll probably say something crazy like, _hey, you wanna go adopt a baby?_

“It’s okay, darling,” he says instead, “three a.m. is a time for sentimentality.”

He can feel Alec’s smile, that wide, unabashed smile he loves so much. “Yeah," he says, "you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> all i wanted was to write something soft i don't know how we ended up here.
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](cuubism.tumblr.com) :)


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